


A Broken Clock

by VarjoRuusu



Category: Black Sails
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Background Thomas Hamilton/James Flint, Broken, Clock, Ignores Season 4, M/M, One Shot, Short, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, Timers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 23:24:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10685049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VarjoRuusu/pseuds/VarjoRuusu
Summary: At the age of twelve James McGraw had asked his mother what the numbers tattooed on his arm meant. She had softly explained to him that they were counting down to the day, the time, the minute that he would meet his soulmate, the one person that had been put on this earth just for him. He hadn't been sure he believed her, smiling all the same as she turned away and he stared down at his arm.'26 Years, 9 Months, 8 Days – 12:31:27' started back at him. He had shrugged and gone on with his life, not really bothering with the clock. It didn't change, except to count down, so really there was no point in worrying about it for another twenty-six years or so.---Three years after they arrived in Nassau, Flint stared at his arm in disbelief. His clock had stopped. It wasn't sitting at zero, it wasn't ticking forwards or backwards, it was just stopped. It still said '7 Years 4 Months 3 Days – 8:09:07' in the same curly script it always had, but it wasn't changing.





	A Broken Clock

**Author's Note:**

> Oh boy. There aren't enough soulmate fics in this tag. I went a bit off the deep end and have four in progress. This is the shortest and first finished. Enjoy!

At the age of twelve James McGraw had asked his mother what the numbers tattooed on his arm meant. She had softly explained to him that they were counting down to the day, the time, the minute that he would meet his soulmate, the one person that had been put on this earth just for him. He hadn't been sure he believed her, smiling all the same as she turned away and he stared down at his arm.

'26 Years, 9 Months, 8 Days – 12:31:27' started back at him. He had shrugged and gone on with his life, not really bothering with the clock. It didn't change, except to count down, so really there was no point in worrying about it for another twenty-six years or so.

He still had more than ten years left when he met Thomas Hamilton. He didn't understand how his clock hadn't pointed to Thomas, he had loved the man so deeply and with so much of his heart, but it was still ticking away and Thomas had smiled at it sadly, showing James his bare arm where his clock used to be.

“I never met them,” he'd confessed quietly one night and James had nodded, not pressing any further into the discussion.

Miranda didn't have a clock either, and the whole situation left James feeling out of place and on edge. Then everything had gone to hell, Thomas had been taken, and he'd fled to Nassau with Miranda. After that he had started watching the clock every day after he took on the name 'James Flint,' if only for something to hang on to, something to believe in. It was thin, it was pointless, but it was all that kept him going the first few months.

Three years after they arrived in Nassau, Flint stared at his arm in disbelief. His clock had stopped. It wasn't sitting at zero, it wasn't ticking forwards or backwards, it was just stopped. It still said '7 Years 4 Months 3 Days – 8:09:07' in the same curly script it always had, but it wasn't changing.

The numbers normally ran down the seconds, restarting at 24:00:00 every day at around 2:00PM, local time in the Caribbean, but now it remained stubbornly at 8:09:07. His soulmate wasn't dead, if they were, the clock would have turned red, gone to zero, and then slowly faded, as Thomas had explained his had done when he was only seventeen. Instead it stayed that way, paused and unmoving.

For seven years, four months, three days, eight hours, nine minutes, and seven seconds, it stayed that way. Then one afternoon Flint, who had stopped looking at the clock a long time ago, looked up into the eyes of John Silver, a man of questionable morals, a stronger lust for gold than any man he'd ever met, a propensity for lying and spinning tails, and the worst cook Flint had ever encountered, and suddenly his arm burned.

Nothing really changed, but several months later, after they had been through hell and back, and Silver had pulled him from the sea even though Flint had been ready to drown, he'd had enough. Ignoring the fact that his hands were bound, and that they were essentially sitting on the beach waiting for their death sentence to be carried out, Flint rose on his knees, shuffled over to Silver and dragged his arm out, pulling his sleeve up.

'7 Years 4 Months 3 Days – 8:09:07' stared back at him under a myriad of scars slashed across it.

“What the fuck did you do?” Flint asked finally, his voice a little bit broken.

“I didn't want to be tied down. I didn't want to be beholden to someone who I'd never met, who I didn't even know if I'd like,” Silver grumbled, pulling his arm away.

“Well I certainly don't like you,” Flint said, pulling his own sleeve up to show his paused clock.  
“It didn't help that you broke the damned thing seven fucking years ago,” he growled and Silver groaned, covering his face with his hands as he fell back against the sand.

“I truly am the luckiest man alive,” he groaned sarcastically.

“You think I wanted a piss-ant like you for a soulmate?” Flint scoffed. No, he hadn't wanted Silver. He had wanted Thomas, and instead he'd ended up with a thorn in his side who he'd rather kill than love.

That didn't really stop it though, he ended up loving Silver anyway, the chance given for the feeling to grow when they didn't, in fact, die on that beach, instead sneaking aboard a Spanish Man 'o War like the fools they were. Later, when he heard what Vane's quartermaster had done to Silver's leg he'd seen red, ready to gut the man where he stood, only Billy had already done just that. Flint's rage was only slightly appeased by the fact that the man was dead, but he really had wanted to be the one to end his miserable life.

“I'm sorry,” Silver whispered one night when they sat together on the beach, staring out at the dark water. They had just come from the ceremony for Mr. Scott, leaving the rest of the island behind as they'd made their way down to the beach, a bottle of rum held tightly in Flint's hand.

“For what?” Flint asked, taking a drink and passing the bottle to his companion. Silver caught his arm and drew back the sleeve to look at the clock.

“For this. I was angry, I didn't want...it was too much. I felt so trapped,” he tried to explain.

“I didn't want you either, you know,” Flint said quietly, telling the story of Thomas Hamilton for the first time since it had happened, finally revealing the truth to someone besides Miranda. Silver listened with wide eyes, nodding now and then, his hand still covering Flint's clock.

“Do you think we'll survive this?” Silver asked eventually, looking out at the water, trying to hold back the tears.

“Who the fuck knows,” Flint said, turning his body enough to pull his arm out of Silver's grasp and sliding his fingers into the other mans long dark hair, drawing him forward and pressing their mouths together desperately. Silver groaned, leaning closer as his arms wound around Flint's waist and neck, the rum affecting their equilibrium and sending them sprawling onto the sand, Silver laying over Flint's chest as they kissed hungrily.

The sound of the waves breaking on the beach drowned out the sounds of the two men fucking like it was their lat night on earth, which it may well had been. Neither noticed right away that their arms began to glow, but when they paused, panting, to stare at one another, Flint saw that Silver's arm was glowing and he glanced down at his own, seeing the same thing. They watching in fascination as their clocks glowed gold for a few moments before the time and date curled itself into place where their old counters had been.

Silver laughed and Flint smiled, allowing himself to be drawn back into a deep kiss as he moved sharply, quickly bringing them both to completion, collapsing on the other mans chest and relishing the feel of Silver's strong arms around him as he tried to regain his breath.

“If we live through this, I may tell you I love you,” Silver grinned and Flint snorted.

“If we live through this, there will be a lot more of this,” he said, running a hand along Silver's chest.

“I can agree to that,” Silver grinned, twisting his head to capture Flint's lips.

They slept under the stars, tangled together under Flint's jacket, knowing that come morning they would be fighting for their lives, their homes, and everything they knew.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m on Tumblr [Beneath The Black Sails](http://www.beneaththeblacksails.tumblr.com)


End file.
